Final Battles
by Prisoner 24601
Summary: One shot, coauthored by Dinah Lance. Thirty years after the Star Forge, Mandalore goes out for one final battle. But before he can go, he has to face down Revan first.


**Co-authored by Dinah Lance. Kel and Nerien used with Arrow's permission. **

**Final Battles**

Canderous squinted up into the rare Dxun sunlight and resisted the urge to shield his eyes with one gauntleted fist. His recent fever had left its marks. The glare of the sun off the helms of the warriors in the combat ring made his eyes water and his head ache. For the first time in his life, he felt the weight of his armor. But he kept his shoulders straight. No one needed to know. Not even Min. It was bad enough she'd been forced to play nursemaid to him for almost a month.

Kelborne approached the dueling circle with quick steps. He stopped in front of Canderous and saluted, fist to chest.

"A zakkeg just attacked the southwest guard station, Mandalore."

"A zakkeg? I thought we'd hunted them out of this area."

"Do you want me to take a squad out?"

Canderous looked back at the sky. On a clear day, Onderon hung heavy just beyond the horizon. The night before had been clear, too. Every star in the sky close enough to touch, to pluck from the dark like fruit from a jungle vine.

He didn't know much about the Force. But decades ago, on Taris, he'd learned that when the Force handed you an opportunity, you took it.

"No," he said finally. "I'll go."

Kelborne nodded. "I'll tell the squad to form up outside your bunker."

"No. I'll fight alone. Get your sons. You can come along and kill the beast if I fall."

"I..." The younger man fell silent, his expression hidden by his helm. "Yes, Mandalore."

Canderous nodded. "I'll meet you at the edge of camp."

Kelborne saluted again and turned to go.

"Kelborne." The other man turned. "Find Revan. Tell her what you told me. And that I'll be in our bunker preparing."

"Yes, Mandalore."

As Kelborne trotted off, Canderous let out a breath. Telling Min meant fighting two battles, but she'd never forgive him if he snuck off. She might not forgive him anyway, but that was too bad.

He walked off toward their bunker with a much lighter step, the weight of his armor forgotten.

hr

He could tell she was standing in the door without even turning around. He could also tell that he should probably be grateful that she couldn't kill people with the Force just by looking at them.

"If you're going to stand there, you could help me tighten the gauntlets," he said evenly, pulling down a long double-bladed spear from the weapons rack.

She crossed her arms underneath her chest and didn't move from the door. "Why?" she snapped. "So you can go out and get yourself killed?"

"It's just a zakkeg, Min." He set the spear down on the table where he'd gathered the other bladed weapons he planned to take.

Her lips tightened as she took in the sight of him in his battle armor. "It's not just a zakkeg, and you know it. You're going out there for one final battle and you're not planning on coming back."

"I always plan on coming back." He shrugged. "I just don't count on it."

"Maybe you don't count on it, but I do!" Her voice rose as she rested her hands on her hips. "Were you going to find the guts to tell me you're going off to die, or were you just going to sneak out of here?"

He slammed a metal-gloved fist on the table, rattling the swords and spears on the wood. He turned to face her. "I'm going off to defend my camp," he ground out from behind clenched teeth. "I didn't realize I needed your permission."

She just spluttered in outrage for a moment, and he took advantage of the silence. His eyes swept over her—the long legs wrapped in leather, her still-narrow waist, despite their three children and three decades together—and he grinned. She was still the sexiest woman he had ever seen. Especially when she was angry. His gaze rose to her tightened jaw, her burning eyes, the fine lines of her brow, the gray that streaked her black hair. He felt a familiar surge of pride and crossed his arms over his chest. "I told Kelborne to tell you. After you, the zakkeg will be nothing."

"Fine," she bit out as she arched an eyebrow. Crossing the room, she snatched up a vibroblade. "I'll help. If this is simply about defending the camp, I'm sure you won't mind if I come along."

He pulled one of the vibroblades from her hand and hefted its weight. He didn't meet her eyes. "You used to trust me to get the job done without help." He swung the sword expertly, and the blade cut several smooth arcs. He ignored the twinges of protest from his stiff shoulder.

She was silent for a second as she watched him move. When she spoke she was typically blunt.

"You're not young anymore and you've been sick recently. We both know if you go out there today, you're not coming back, and I can't..." Trailing off, she swallowed hard and put the blade back down on the table. "Please don't do this. Don't go."

He sighed and set his blade down next to hers, then leaned with his fists against the table. "When Tar was a baby and you left to face the Sith threat, I didn't think you were coming back. And you didn't either. I know you didn't." He straightened and turned to face her, his arms crossed over his chest. "But I accepted it when you said it was your fight."

From the way she lifted her chin in the air, he knew he'd hit home.

"That was entirely different," she snapped.

Canderous snorted. "Convinced yourself yet?"

Indignation made her voice rise again. "It _was_ different. Because it was me! And because..." Lines appeared on her forehead as she struggled not to sputter incoherently. "...because I wasn't trying to get myself killed. And there wasn't anyone else who could go. It _had_ to be me."

She closed the gap between them, resting her hands on his forearm. "But you don't have to do this. Let Ja'Taren do it, or have Kelborne take a squad out."

He rested a hand on her shoulder and met her dark gaze. "Mandalore's place is at the head of the army, not hiding behind it," he said. "Kelborne and his sons will accompany me to take down the beast if I fall. Tar..." A slow grin split his lined face as pride washed over him again. "Tar will have his chance to prove himself. And he'll succeed."

"And what about me? What the hell am I going to do when you're gone?" She trembled under his hand and he could see that she was barely holding on to her self control. "I need you. Your children and your grandchildren and your clan all need you. Alive."

"No one can stop death." He offered her a small grin, and his hand slid from her shoulder to her cheek. "Not even Revan." He shrugged. "I had a lifetime before you. You'll have a lifetime after me. Seems fair."

Closing her eyes, she turned her cheek into his hand and murmured, "I don't want to figure out how to do this without you. It doesn't have to be this way."

He sighed and put his other arm around her, though it was awkward with his armor between them. He suddenly wished he hadn't been in such a rush to get it on. "Figure out how to do what? Live? You did more before you met me than most people do in a lifetime. You were leading an army by twenty five."

"I never thought I'd live this long." She opened her eyes and although the anger was still simmering underneath the surface, it was tempered by grief. "I always thought you'd outlive me."

He lowered his face to her hair and inhaled deeply. "Then you're a dumbass," he murmured.

She choked the words out. "Yeah, I know."

Min leaned against him for a while before speaking again. "You're going to do this no matter what I say, aren't you?" She sighed. "I should just kick your ass and make you stay."

Canderous laughed, though it was harder than it should have been. "Might save time. Didn't I once tell you dying by your hand would be the most honorable death I could wish for myself?"

She scowled up at him. "You don't get off that easy. If you insist on being boneheaded and stubborn about this, you're going to have to do it on your own."

Pulling back, she took his arm, and he watched in silence as she worked on each of his gauntlets. Then she knelt before him and tightened the greaves that covered his shins. She rose and stood before him, eyes downcast. There was nothing left to do.

He reached out with both hands and buried them in her hair as he pulled her forward. Their lips met, and he forced everything else from his mind. He was glad he didn't have the Force. He didn't want to know what she was feeling and that he was the cause of it. Despite all her years in the camp, despite the tattoo on her shoulder, he knew she would never really understand. But she'd have their children, and they would understand.

When the scent of her began to overwhelm him and his resolve began to crack, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. "I'm your man until the end," he murmured.

He pulled away then and picked up Mandalore's helm from the table. He settled it over his head, then selected two vibroblades and pushed them into the scabbards strapped to his back. They slid into place with a hiss and a snap. He grabbed a long, two-handed spear, then turned to face her. Tears shone in her dark eyes, but he could see that she was fighting with everything she had not to let them fall. He smiled, though he knew she couldn't see it.

Hefting the spear, he walked past her to the door. He didn't look back.

hr

Min watched the door slide shut behind him and choked back a sob that clawed through her chest and up the back of her throat. For awhile all she could do was stand in the middle of the bunker she'd called home for the last thirty years and try not to fall to pieces.

Knowing that she needed to keep busy or she was going to end up losing it entirely, she strode through the door and out into the camp. For a while she just sat on a bench outside of the bunker and watched the hustle and traffic of the once small camp go by. But even as she tried to stay occupied observing all that they had built together in the last thirty years, she couldn't stop herself from stretching her senses. It wasn't long before she felt his solid, steady presence slip into the jungle, until it was swallowed up by the feedback of the rain forest.

Unable to stand by any longer, she stood and strode into her bunker. A minute later she stepped back out again, lightsabers clipped to her belt. Jaw locked into a hard line, she started off through the camp in the direction that Canderous had gone, not sure what she was going to do when she finally caught up with him.

She sensed her son's presence before she saw him. Min didn't break stride or look at him as he fell into step beside her.

"I'm guessing you know what your boneheaded father is doing?" She took his silence as an affirmation. "I'm going to find him, and don't try to talk me out of it, Ja'Taren."

"I won't." His voice echoed hollowly through his helmet. As they walked, he pulled it off and tucked it under one arm. He ran a gloved hand through his dark hair, then turned to look down at her. His gray eyes, the exact shade of his father's, were creased at the edges with faint lines of worry. "What will you do when you find him?"

"I don't know." Her voice faltered. "I just know that I have to be there."

They entered the fringes of the jungle surrounding the camp, and Ja'Taren automatically unsheathed his sword. Despite the bulky armor, he moved almost silently, a child of the jungle born and bred. They walked in silence for several minutes, his eyes constantly scanning the branches and vines around them. Tension and shock and the first tendrils of grief vibrated in the Force between them.

"He won't want you to interfere," Ja'Taren said finally.

She looked over at her stoic son who, other than the brown skin and black hair he'd inherited from her, was a mirror image of his father—or what she'd imagined he'd looked like at that age. "You know what's going to happen out here if I don't. I don't want him to die."

He didn't look at her, his eyes still darting among the leaves. She could feel a storm of conflicted emotion behind his impassive expression. After another few minutes of silence, he sighed. "What about what he wants?" he asked quietly.

Her eyes began to burn from the effort of holding back tears. "I don't understand why he wants this. I don't understand why it has to be this way. He has a good life. Even if he isn't the strongest warrior anymore we still need him. I just don't..." Min stopped abruptly, and tried to compose herself. She touched her son's shoulder. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't be in the middle of this. I'll find him on my own."

"He's my father," her son said simply, looking down at her with somber eyes. "How could I not be in the middle of this? And I'm not leaving you here alone." He looked up suddenly, and a moment later Min felt the presence of a Force user, that she recognized as Kelborne, ahead of them. "We're getting close."

Min picked up her pace, anxious to find Canderous. The closer they got the more she could sense. Kelborne and his sons' presence became stronger, until she could feel the tension coiling around them tighter and tighter. And then she felt it, the mindless rage of the zakkeg hurt and bleeding, focused on one man.

"Dammit!" She sped up to a sprint, ignoring the protesting of her legs telling her that she wasn't young anymore. The sharp twinges of pain were irrelevant as she gathered the Force around her to help her crash through the jungle.

Even though it was probably less than a minute, fear and panic made it seem like it took an eternity to find him. She found Kelborne and his sons at the edge of a clearing watching their Mandalore face off against the zakkeg. They turned to face her but she ignored them, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene in front of her.

Every instinct she had told her to charge ahead and help him finish off the zakkeg, but she knew if she did that he'd never forgive her for shaming him that way. Then again, even though he'd be furious with her, he'd still be alive.

But Min knew would only be for a short time. If she killed the zakkeg today, he'd find another enemy tomorrow, and he'd continue battling until something finally took him down.

Even though she'd led two fleets to war, faced off against several Sith Lords, and given birth to three Mandalorian children, skidding to a halt next to Kelborne and watching this fight was the hardest thing she'd ever done. With her fists clenched and body trembling from the panic and grief that howled through her, she watched her mate fight for his life, silently willing for him to win.

Ja'Taren put his hand on her shoulder, whether to comfort her or hold her back Min wasn't sure. She felt a brief burst of hope as she saw that Canderous's two vibroswords were already embedded deeply into the creature's side. Blood spattered the green grass of the clearing and Canderous's silver armor with bright splashes of color. Canderous was now using the spear to carve out large gashes in the zakkeg's hide. He made several successful stabs, but the slippery mud of the Dxun jungle floor made it impossible for him to get enough leverage to deeply penetrate the zakkeg's flesh. The zakkeg, enraged and desperate, lunged and snapped at him. Even at his age, Canderous still moved quickly enough to avoid the creature's jaws, but Min could feel him tiring through the Force.

As if sensing an advantage, the zakkeg suddenly lunged not for the man attacking it but for the spear. It caught the spear in its jaws and snapped it neatly in half. Its momentum carried it forward, and it pounced on Canderous, knocking him to the ground.

A groan of claws on metal echoed through the clearing, followed by a sharp crack as Canderous's breastplate gave way beneath the creature's weight. The zakkeg's jaws snapped forward, and Canderous caught its teeth with one armored gauntlet. He reached out blindly with the other hand until his fingers closed around the shaft of the broken spear. Pinned beneath the zakkeg's weight, he had the leverage to stab the spearhead through the creature's neck. It bellowed in outrage, and more blood coated the grass. Canderous pulled the blade out and stabbed it into the creature's eye. Blindly, the zakkeg lashed out in pain, sweeping Canderous off the ground and into a nearby tree. He hit the trunk with a dull thud, then slid down and lay crumpled at the base. The zakkeg bellowed once more, then fell on its side and lay still.

Min ran blindly, slipping through the mud and blood, ignoring the shouts of her son and the other Mandalorians, until she reached his side. She knelt beside him and rolled him onto his back, using her Force senses to assess his injuries as best as she could.

Too many bones were broken and he was bleeding internally. She could feel his life trickling away as she unhooked the clasps to his helm, pulled it from his head and tossed it aside. Min touched his cheek and gathered the Force around her, even though she knew in the part of her mind that was still coldly rational, that his injuries were too extensive for her to save him.

A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his lips to stain his white beard. His eyes opened, and he raised an arm stiffly to cover her hand with his own. "Not this time, Min," he said quietly.

Min automatically started to protest, but his as his breathing got shallower and shallower, Min knew he didn't have much time, and she didn't want to spend it arguing over something she couldn't change.

She swallowed and nodded as hot tears streaked down her cheeks but her voice was almost steady as she said the words he needed to hear.

"You won, Canderous. You were glorious."

He nodded. She watched his eyes drift over her shoulder and felt Ja'Taren come up behind her.

Canderous's lips formed their son's name, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Tar. Take care of the camp. Kelborne will help you." He had to pause to catch his breath. "Contact the other Clan Chiefs. Any warrior who wants to be Mandalore... will have to challenge all the Clan Chiefs, including you."

"Unless I challenge them first," Ja'Taren said evenly.

Canderous grinned and barked a short laugh that ended in a wet-sounding cough. As he panted for breath, his eyes went back to Min's face and she felt their son move away.

He brought her hand from his cheek to his chest. She winced as her fingers grazed over the bent and broken breastplate. "At least you know... I didn't lie," he murmured in Mandalorian. "It's the end, and I'm still your man."

The first time he'd told her that, it had taken her years to understand. After thirty years together, there was no doubt.

"I love you too."

He grinned. "I know."

Min felt his heart beat fade away as his eyes fluttered shut. After a few raspy breaths he was gone, and she couldn't hold back her sobs anymore. Laying her cheek against his still chest, she wept, her grief drowning out everything and everyone around her.

Eventually she felt the strong hand of her son on her shoulder. "Kelborne will take him back to the camp," Ja'Taren said quietly.

He gently pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She watched numbly as Kelborne and his sons came forward. Kelborne picked up Mandalore's helm from where Min had tossed it aside and refastened it over Canderous's head. His sons straightened Canderous's body, then picked him up reverently. As they passed to head back to the camp, Kelborne paused and laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

Min and her son watched until they plunged into the dim jungle that surrounded the clearing. Then he turned to her. "We should go back. We need to begin preparations for the feast."

"Only damned Mandalorians would think this is something to celebrate." Wiping her eyes dry with the back of her hand, she smoothed her features out as best as she could and started back to camp.

Lost in a torrent of anger and grief, Min was only barely aware of their return through the jungle, relying on Ja'Taren's steady arm to guide her back to the camp. Once there, she relied on him to take care of everything else too.

Ja'Taren spread the word about the fallen Mandalore, to his brother on Coruscant, sister and Clan. He made the preparations for that night's funeral feast and ceremonial burning. Unable to face the children and grandchildren who bore his eyes and his face, Min simply returned to her bunker and locked everyone out.

But being alone in the bunker she'd called home for thirty years didn't bring any solace. Surrounded by all of the remnants of the life they'd built together, just made the bunker feel empty and desolate.

She tried to do the necessary things like sort through his belongings and decide what to do with them, but she just couldn't bring herself to even touch them yet. So she sat in the middle of their living quarters, numbed by her pain, unable to take any action.

Time stretched. And eventually her son came to take her to do her duty.

There was a knock on the door and then the soft hiss of it opening, so Min knew it was one of their children. Ja'Taren stepped into the room, still dressed in armor, his face still impassive. But Min could feel his tension, his grief, and his deep concern for her.

"Everything's almost ready. We'll begin at sundown."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let this all fall on you. I should have been the one to oversee this, to tell your brother and sister, but I just..." Hating that she was showing weakness in front of her son, she swallowed and changed the subject. "How are your brother and sister, and your children?"

"The kids are fine. I think they're a little too young to understand what's going on." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Bri is with Nerien. Komrik is..." He sighed again. "Well, he's Komrik."

Ja'Taren laid a hand on her shoulder. "He said he'll come to Dxun if you want him to, though it would be a few days before he could get here. And he offered to contact the Onasis. I told him to go ahead."

There had always been friction between Canderous and Komrik, their second son, and when Komrik had left Dxun to start a life on Coruscant, the two of them had been barely speaking. It made her furious at both of them, because now they'd never have the chance to find some kind of common ground.

She looked around the bunker's common room. Canderous's belongings were all in their place: a disassembled repeater on the workbench, his vest tossed over one of the chairs, his pack of half-empty cigarras sitting on the table. It looked like he'd just left camp for a few hours and would be back at anytime. Even after everything she'd seen she still half expected him to walk through the door.

"No. It's not necessary for him to come to come here. I'm going to be leaving in a few days anyway. I can't stay here anymore. It's too hard, and without your father, it's not home anymore."

Ja'Taren didn't look surprised. He simply nodded. "Do you want help with your armor?"

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "Afraid your old mother is too infirm to put her own gear on?"

Ja'Taren smiled back. "I know better than to call you old. I'd rather not be hit with Force Lightning while wearing metal armor."

She reached up and patted his cheek. "You're my precious firstborn son. I'd never fry you with force lightening. I'd spank you instead."

He covered her hand with his own in a gesture identical to his father's and looked down at her with his father's eyes.

She didn't realize that she's had any tears left until they started streaking down her cheeks. Min tried to pull it together again but couldn't. He looked too much like his father, and her grief was too raw.

Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to summon some self control. "I miss him already."

Her son was silent as he let go of her hand and knelt beside her. "I'm sorry," he said thickly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe I..." He swallowed and cleared his throat. "Maybe I should have stopped him."

Seeing her son in pain, forced her to find the self control that she needed. "No. Don't be sorry. It's not your fault that your father is–" she forced the word out, "_was_ a stubborn bonehead. He'd made up his mind. Even if we'd somehow managed to talk him out of it today, it would have happened tomorrow or the next day or next week. I've known this day was coming for a while now."

She sighed and brushed back his hair from his face like he was still her little boy. "He wouldn't have been happy going out any other way. Or living with weakness. It was his choice and I know that." Min forced herself to admit out loud what was tearing her up inside. "It's just hard to accept that I wasn't enough to make him want to live."

"He wanted to be worthy of you," her son said solemnly, meeting her gaze. "He didn't want you to accept him as less than he was."

"I know. But I just wanted him to live," she murmured.

She took a deep breath, wiped the tears from her face and squared her shoulders. It was time to face her last duty to him. "I should get dressed. I'll meet you outside when I'm ready," she said, knowing that she would never truly be ready to let Canderous go.

When Min finally gathered wits enough to step out of the bunker into damp and warm night, the camp was waiting for her. She spared a brief look at her children. While their faces were covered by their helms, she could feel their tension and their grief, just as deep and as raw as her own. But there was a fierce pride too, in their father and in their people.

With her children flanking her, she walked through the camp to the clearing where Canderous's body was already laid out on a bier. After a few brief words from her son, Min took the ceremonial torch and lit the funeral pyre. The fire burned bright and hot, and in silence they watched the flames consume their Mandalore and his ashes drifted upward to the sky on the soft wind.

Somehow, she stood and watched the pyre without collapsing against her son and howling out her grief. By the time the burning was finished she was completely numb. Min took her place at the head of the celebratory feast in silence and watched as the Mandalorian camp began their feast.

When the haunch of roast zakkeg was presented to her, Min choked a few bites down, knowing that not eating her mate's final kill would bring shame to his name. But once her duty was finished she shoved her plate away and nursed the glass of fine Alderaanian wine, wondering how long it would be before she could slip away with the bottle and drown her grief.

A young dark-haired woman approached, her helmet under one arm. Min looked up into the dark eyes of her daughter. Bri's eyes were dry, her expression composed.

"You didn't stop him." Min wasn't sure if it was praise or an accusation.

Worry cut through her numb fog. Min could feel her daughter's emotions, and knew that underneath her composure, her daughter was hurting just as badly as she was.

"No, I didn't." Min gestured to the empty seat beside her, and asked a question that she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to. "Do you hate me for it?"

Bri sat and looked out over the camp, avoiding her mother's eyes. "An honorable death is every Mandalorian's right."

"Maybe," Min murmured. "But he wasn't just a Mandalorian, he was your father too."

"He was Mandalore." There was a fierce, stubborn pride in the tone of her voice and the set of her shoulders.

"It's okay to mourn him, Bri. Or to be angry with him... and me."

Bri shook her head. "This is his feast. This is how we mourn our fallen." Her jaw tightened into a hard line. "If you want someone to get all emotional, call Komrik," she said bitterly. "I'm sure he'd be more than happy to be angry."

Min sighed, thinking that she should have known better than to push and refusing to get sidetracked into an argument about her second son. Of all of their children, Bri was the most like Canderous, and she'd see an admission of pain and grief as some kind of admission of weakness.

"You're right. It is his feast, and what he would have wanted." She tried very hard not to let her anger and grief bleed into her voice, or point out that it wasn't what she'd wanted.

Bri sat stiffly, her back ramrod straight. She was completely still except for her right leg, which bounced up and down slightly as she jiggled her right foot. It was an old habit from when she was a little girl tired of sitting in the bunker and longing to plunge headlong into the jungle with her older brothers. Min hadn't seen her do it in years.

Bri turned away from Min and looked out over the feasting camp. Her eyes wandered to the remnants of the funeral pyre, then quickly flicked away again.

"It was a good feast," she said soberly. "He would have been proud." Under the even tones was the barest hint of a question, a faint crack of uncertainty.

"Yes, he would have." She studied her daughter a bit, before handing her a glass of the vile Mandalorian beer that Min absolutely detested but she knew Bri loved. "He would have been proud of you too."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Min nursing her wine and Bri nursing her beer. The silence was broken by the shouts of a young boy. He bolted out of the deepening darkness and launched himself at Min.

"Gramma!" he yelled as he jumped up onto Min's lap. He was dressed in his sleeping outfit.

Ja'Taren followed more slowly, a little girl in his arms. The girl looked down at Min with wide gray eyes. Faint tracks of tears glistened on her chubby cheeks in the remains of the firelight.

"They wanted to say good night," Ja'Taren said. "We were talking about Grandpa going away." He hugged his daughter close. "I think this one got scared that you had left, too."

"Oh, honey, I'm right here." Min rested her cheek on the top of her grandson's head for a moment as she rubbed his back, realizing that she was going to have to put off her trip to Coruscant for another week or so. She couldn't leave them when they were scared and frightened like this. When she left, she was going to have to make sure that they knew they could visit her anytime, or maybe even convince Ja'Taren to allow her to take them with her for awhile.

She stood and took her granddaughter from her son. Balancing one child on her hip, she took the other's hand. "How about I put them to bed?"

Ja'Taren nodded. He bent to kiss his daughter on the cheek and muss his son's hair, then went to sit down beside his sister at the feasting table.

Min looked down at Canderous's namesake and summoned up a reassuring smile. "Come on, kiddo. Grandma's had enough of this feast. Let's go back to the bunker and I'll tell you a story."

Instead of taking her grandchildren to her son's bunker, she took them to her own. Or rather her grandson led the way, impatiently tugging at her hand.

Min deposited them in her bedroom, letting them jump on her bed, screeching and giggling while she changed out of her armor and into her own nightclothes. When she was finally ready, she climbed into bed with them. A part of her knew that if Canderous knew she was indulging their grandchildren this way, he'd grumble about her making them too soft. But she decided that since her husband had been too stubborn and boneheaded to live, that he'd just have to deal.

She'd just sat in between them and pulled them up close, when her grandson looked at her and asked, "When's Grandpa coming back?"

It took all of her willpower to not break down and cry again. Somehow, she managed to keep her voice steady. "He's not, sweetling."

Earnest gray eyes met sad brown ones. "Can we go visit him?"

Hot tears burned her eyes as she struggled to come up with something that he'd understand. "No. He's gone somewhere where we can't go. At least not for a long time."

To her dismay, her words didn't seem to help. Both of her grandchildren's lips began to tremble, and she silently cursed Canderous for doing this to them.

"But that doesn't mean that a part of him isn't still here with us. As long as we remember him and his stories, he'll always be here."

Both children gave her solemn nods, but she could still feel their confusion and fear and pain through the Force. Her grandson tucked himself under her arm and her granddaughter laid her head upon her lap, and the three of them were silent for a while before her grandson looked up at her and asked, "Can you tell the one about Grandpa's Basilisk droid?"

Min nodded, and began to tell them the story that Canderous had told them a hundred times, and one of the first stories he'd told her a lifetime ago, when she'd pestered him with questions during the Star Forge mission. As she talked, their eyes began to droop and within just a few minutes, they were both fast asleep.

Min lay awake for a long time in the bed that he'd once given to her as a gift, lost in the memories of the life they'd built together and of all the battles they'd fought and enemies they'd defeated. Once again, the tears she thought were dried up trickled down her cheeks.

Her grandson, Canderous--now the only Canderous--stirred against her for a moment, then snuggled back to sleep. He looked just like his father had at that age, and Min could already see traces of his grandfather's face in him. He would grow up proud and strong, the namesake of the Mandalore who had reunited the Clans, a Mandalore that would be remembered with honor.

And Min would get to see him grow up. She'd live to see the legacy that she and Canderous had begun passed on. Wiping the tears away, she snuggled her grandson closer and stroked her granddaughter's hair. She let the warmth of her sleeping grandchildren ease the sting of grief enough for her to fall asleep.


End file.
